


You Are My Lucky Star

by nausicaa82



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blood (slight), Bottom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Dunking, Facial Shaving, Fanboy Phil Coulson, Fanboy Tony Stark, Grooming, Hand Jobs, Humiliation (slight), M/M, Objectification, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Scrubbing, Temperature Play, breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa82/pseuds/nausicaa82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark may have the larger collection of Captain America memorabilia, but the rarest and most valuable collectable belongs to Phil Coulson. When Stark touches what doesn't belong to him, Phil has to clean and restore his vintage Captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Lucky Star

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd, I welcome people politely pointing out mistakes so I may correct them.

Steve rolled his eyes when Iron Man gave his usual sassy remark as his anti-tank missile hit their enemy de jour, a large flying lizard creature. Steve really wanted to call a dragon, but everyone made clear that was not the correct nomenclature. Hawkeye confirmed the critical hit, and Steve was about to start giving the orders for their exit with the archer started yelling.  

“Shit, Captain, your three o’clock!” Steve turned in time to see the lifeless body of the _dragon_ (it breathed fire for crying out loud!) falling towards the abandoned warehouse he was next to. Unable to get away in time, he balled up and braced himself under his shield as bricks and plate glass tumbled over him. When the roar of the collapsing building ended, he tried calling over the coms, but the line was dead. The air was thick with brick dust, and he felt his arms starting to strain under the weight on top of him. Just as panic was starting to creep in, he heard shouts and the high-pitched whine of a laser cutting.

“HELLO?” Steve shouted then coughed as more air born particles invaded his lungs. In just a few minutes, sunlight started filtering through.  
  
“Marco?” Iron Man’s robotic voice asked.

“Polo,” Steve coughed back as bricks were moving away from him and metal arms were lifting him from the rubble.

“I’m okay; I can get up myself!” Steve protested and snapped his arm back. As he stood and put weight on both legs, a sharp pain shot through from his knee and he collapsed back down.

“ _Sure you can_ , Cap. Let me carry you back to…”

“No, it’s fine; it just caught me by surprise.” But the gauntlets were already behind his knees and shoulders, scooping him up in a bridal carry. “Please, Tony,” Steve softly pleaded, “let me walk back.”

“Won’t hear of it, Cap. One, JARVIS shows your knee is twisted. Two, _walking_ back will take too long even on two good legs. And three, as Captain America’s number one fan, like hell I’m going to give up the chance to rescue my childhood hero. Now be a good princess and hold on, I don’t want to drop you.” The gauntlets tightened, but Steve refused to hold on to the armor, instead clutching his shield and praying Phil was busy with something else this afternoon.

Of course, it was a foolish hope. Agent Coulson, like always, had his hand in every mission Captain America was involved. He had been watching the feed from Iron Man’s camera for the whole battle and post-battle rescue. When they landed back at HQ, he was already on the launch pad talking with Thor.  Immediately when Iron Man’s feet touched the ground, Steve started squirming.

“Let me go. Put me down.” Steve urged, seeing Phil walk towards them. “Please Stark, put me down.” The helmet turned towards the approaching agent, but the gauntlets of the suit did not loosen their grip around Steve’s legs and chest.

“Not yet, Cap.” The face plate flipped up, and Tony gave him a smirk that made the blond's stomach drop.

“Release Captain Rogers, Stark,” Phil commanded as Tony walked past the Agent heading towards the building.

“No can do, Agent. Need to take him down to infirmary; what kind of hero would I be if I let my hero hobble around on a busted knee and—“  Phil was suddenly behind the suit, pressing something Steve couldn’t see into the arm pit.

“I know exactly where the three weak spots of your armor are, Stark,” Phil threatened with his calm monotone voice. “You will put the Captain down now, or I will break down your suit and then you so quickly you would think you’re at a chop shop.”

The smirk left Tony’s face, and Steve was able to slide down, balancing himself only on one leg. Phil tucked himself under his arm to help support him. He had his professionally cold face on, but Steve could sense the rage coursing through his body.      

“This suit only has two spots,” Tony countered.

“Well, I guess tonight you’ll be trying to identify the third, won’t you?” Phil snapped back, and started moving Steve to the elevator. “Director Fury is expecting you in the war room to debrief.”

“That’s the thanks I get for saving the day and the damsel?” Tony yelled as the doors opened. Phil turned them around in the car and hit the button for the parking garage.

“Oh yes, I forgot. Thank you for not taking the target over the harbor as instructed, but instead causing property damage and injury to your teammate. If it had been anyone else, they would have been dead. But yes, good job on removing a few bricks off the Captain after he protected himself from the results of your showboating.” Steve didn’t see Tony’s reaction as he had his eyes down, and the doors closed before the genius could say anything back.

The best advantage of being a super-bureaucrat was knowing which person’s palms to grease or favors to grant so that Steve didn’t ever have to go to medical unless Phil thought it necessary. Phil also handled all the of the debriefing reports, so no one was the wiser if Steve did his the next morning while all the others had to do theirs before they are cleared to leave for the day. Phil justified it with Steve’s photographic memory making time a nonfactor in remembering detail, but even if that wasn’t the case, he wasn’t sure he would alter his plans of taking the blond to his car.

Phil opened his trunk, took out a trench coat, and put it over Steve’s uniform with quick, rough tugs. It was better people didn't recognize Captain America being driven home. He sat Steve down in the passenger seat, and pulled the blue cowl back, scanning the blond’s face for cuts and bruises under the thick layer of dust. Phil spit into his handkerchief and wiped at the thicker spots on his chin.

“I’m sorry, sir. I tried—“

“Quiet. We’ll talk about it at home,” Phil’s firm staccato words made Steve flush and keep his eyes on his hands folded in his lap. The older man tried to get one particularly bad place, but gave up after a couple of swipes. “You’re so filthy; I’ll need to do a lot of work on you tonight.”

\---

Shortly after he had moved in with Phil, Steve was shown Phil’s trophy room where he kept his Captain America memorabilia and collectables. To Steve’s knowledge, no one else had seen this room. The door blended in with a hallway bookcase, and Phil had to hit a hidden latch to make it open. It had a bed and a reading chair and lots of display cases filled with vintage red, white, and blue items all organized and well kept. They didn't sleep there every night, but after rather difficult missions, Phil always took him there to regain the control Steve’s near death-experiences ripped from the Agent’s hands. The event with Stark by the harbor had only fueled Phil’s need further this time.

In the secret room’s attached bathroom, Phil removed his suit jacket, tie, shoes, and socks, and rolled up his sleeves. He then slowly stripped Steve of the trench coat and his dirty, torn uniform, continuing to check him for any injuries that are more serious than the super serum could quickly repair.

After Phil made it a few times around Steve, inspecting every bit of him with his eyes and his hands, he told Steve to step into the large open shower. Phil could see the blond’s breath become shallower as he knew what was about to come next, but there was also an intoxicating look of submission in his eyes as Steve turned and braced against the wall, still not putting much weight on his swollen knee.

Phil turned on the spray hose, shooting the cold water right onto the small of Steve’s back. He arched, but remained silent; Phil had told him to be quiet in the garage, and he would be until told differently. Standing at the entrance, Phil had Steve at the other end turn and hold in humiliating positions, rinsing him from an impersonal distance until the water going down the drain slowly lightened from brick-red to clear. He then pulled the lever so the rain-head engaged, and Steve tucked his arms across his chest as the cold drops pulled out the remaining heat on his skin.

Then Phil stepped away and turned on a slow stream of hot water for the bath across the room, pouring procured Epsom salt and a little vanilla scented oil into the over-sized tub. From the cabinet, Phil also gathered the shampoo, a medium stiff brush and soap and placed them on the shelf in the large shower stall. He turned off the water of the shower and stepped inside close to Steve but still not touching. The blond was violently shivering and longingly looking over to where the tub was filling with steaming water. Phil regained his attention with a calm reassurance and his first smile for the evening.

“You were very good today, Steve. You protected everyone, including yourself, just like Captain America is supposed to do.” He poured the shampoo into his palm as Steve bowed so the smaller man wouldn’t have to strain to reach the top of his head. Phil rubbed at his scalp, attacking the remaining dust caked in with sweat and oil. Steve wavered a bit, off balance on only one leg and pushed by Phil’s work, but didn’t fall or grab for Phil once.

“Well done, Stevie.” He then wiped away the excess bubbles, flinging them at the floor tile and pushed Steve’s hair back away from his face. Steve wasn’t shaking as hard, comforted by the praise.

“However,” Phil continued as he picked up the brush and lathered the soap. “I don’t like your being touched by others.” He started scrubbing hard at Steve’s neck, working his way down and leaving the skin red and raw. When he was over the spots where Iron Man was holding Steve earlier, the metal touching his skin through torn fabric, Phil added more force causing spots of blood to appear before the scratch closed again.

“Especially by _him_. You know that.” Steve tried so hard not to whine or squirm when the brush felt like needles against his cold hard nipples. He bit at his lower lip to keep silent, but was breathing deep enough that Phil noticed. He continued on, but lightened the pressure as he worked over the sensitive skin of Steve’s balls and between his cheeks. As Phil crouched to scrub Steve’s legs and feet, he looked closer at Steve’s knee and saw the swelling continuing to go down although it was still warm to the touch. Standing upright again, he rewarded the solider for taking his scrubbing so well by pulling him down for a kiss; their bodies far apart so Phil’s shirt and trousers remained dry.

“You may make quiet noises now, ok?” Steve nodded in agreement, and as Phil stepped out, he turned the frigid water back on full blast. Steve gave a small cry and whimpered as the cold rain drops forced the remaining suds to slide down Steve’s body into the drain.

The large tub was almost at the right level now, so Phil gathered the rest of his supplies and then shut off the water for both facilities. The silence that followed calmed the anger still in him from Stark’s trespass. He took Steve’s cold shaking hand and guided him over to the tub. As he settled in, he hissed and sighed; the salt and heat stinging his cuts and scratches but also relaxing his achy muscles.

Phil knelt beside the bath with the items then placed one hand on the back of Steve’s head, the other pinched his nose. They made eye contact for a moment, then Steve took a breath and shut his and felt Phil push his head underwater. It always took all of Steve’s concentration not to fight back the first couple of long seconds he’s under, but then it’s like a switch turns in his brain, and with his whole body submerged in the hot water, he relaxes enough his mind wanders. He doesn’t even have to hold on to Phil’s arm anymore, trusting his love to keep him safe.

This time he thought on why Phil wants--needs this routine, to remove the evidence of a near separation, to treat Steve as a collectable he can restore and then keep in a box, only for him. Steve knows he needs this, too now. Phil scrubs away all of the difficult parts of being Captain America, an icon, a living legend, and leaves just the parts that when acknowledged by Phil, make Steve feel safe and cared for.

Steve’s arms started involuntarily twitching as after a time, his need for oxygen starting to fight his need to be good for Phil. Finally, the push on the back of his head moved him, and the gasps of cool air filling his lungs felt as good as any orgasm he’s had. Phil gently dabbed the salt water from Steve’s eyes with a soft cloth before he told him to open them.

“You’re such a good boy for me.”  Phil then kissed his mouth again and to Steve’s apparent surprise, smiled fondly at him.

“I’m not angry with you, Stevie.” The agent sighed and took up the shaving cup to work up a lather on the boar’s bristles brush. “I saw Stark’s feed.” Phil coated Steve’s face with the foam, accentuating each word with the brush, “I know you resisted his touching you, asked him firmly to stop and put you down.” He picked up the straight-edge and scraped it across the blond’s cheeks with a dexterity that would not surprise anyone who knew the man.  He cleaned the blade on the washcloth and continued on.

“But I am disappointed.” Phil pressed Steve’s chin up and ran the blade slowly over the soft skin of his throat. “I don’t want you calling him Tony.” Steve concentrated on not moving his Adam’s apple with the razor slowly moving across it, but he wanted to swallow so badly. Phil was close, looking into his eyes instead of his throat, and just when Steve thought he was going to start drooling waiting for the safety to swallow, Phil scraped the razor swiftly under his chin and off his face. He chuckled cleaning the blade again, and then made quick strokes over the parts still covered in foam.

“It’s ok, Stevie. It’s in the past, but that’s where it is going to stay. Understand? Not again or I will have to punish you.” Steve nodded his head, licking his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth.

“You are allowed to speak now; answer me.”

“Yes, sir, I understand. I won’t call him that again. I’m sorry,” Steve barely whispered. Phil rinsed the cloth in the water and then wiped at Steve’s face, removing any lingering residue.

 “Apology accepted.” He then ran the soft cloth down Steve’s body, caressing where just before he had brutally scrubbed.  The contrasts between the shower and the bath were starting to make Steve’s head swim—the cold versus hot, the stiff brush versus the soft cloth, the harsh soap versus the comfort of the vanilla. Best of all, Phil wasn't far way but close and touching him, smiling, and not using such an angry tone.

“Thank you, sir, for the cleaning and the bath,” Steve whispered.

“Of course, Stevie, I have to keep my most prized Captain America collectable in top condition.” Phil moved lower to wash his hips and felt how the heat of the bath and the dunk have made Steve hard.  Phil let go of the cloth and wrapped his hand loose around Steve’s shaft, starting with slow long strokes that quickly speed up. After a few minutes, the sound of water splashing was starting to be drowned out by Steve’s pants and moans until the blond finally begged, “Please, sir, may I?”

“Yes, Stevie.” Phil squeezed and jerked hard then watched as Steve arched and his jaw dropped. With his eyes screwed shut, no sound passed the beautiful plump lips as the water clouded by his thighs. It took just a few more moments of gazing at his Steve for Phil to commit the image to his memory, and then he pulled the stopper for the water to drain.  

Steve felt like he was floating when the soft cotton towel dabbed at his body and Phil’s hands directed him where to go, where to sit on the bed. The dull ache in his knee was now far off, but the air cooling his skin made him want to go back to the bath.  Phil rubbed the thick moisturizing cream over his shoulders and down his arms, down his chest, down his back, down his legs. Steve’s muscles were melting even more with the massage and reverent kisses Phil gave him.

Phil combed his hair to set the part then turned him on to his stomach and propped his ass up with the pillows. With one hand spreading his cheeks, it was easy to slide one then two slick fingers into Steve’s relaxed body. The blond moaned but stayed still, resisting the urge to squirm because he was so exposed or to buck because it felt so good.

After a few moments of stroking, Phil couldn’t wait any longer. He had wanted this from the moment he saw Stark touching his Captain America, to claim what was his. He shed his own clothes in a pile on the floor then took his dick into his slick hand and pushed slightly into the still too tight hole. While keeping a bruising grip on Steve’s hip, he pulled back and in again, each stroke going a little deeper. Steve’s hands fisted the bed cover and he gave little whimpers and moans with each thrust, much to Phil’s delight.

Later, after Phil had collected himself back after his release, he cleaned the both of them, gave Steve some water, and then held him until he fell asleep whispering praise and encouragement in his ear. Once he felt Steve's breath slow and his body relax further, Phil got up and sat in his robe on the chair watching him sleep among all of the Captain America things he had collected and restored through the years. He fished his phone from his pants and brought up the secret override he had set up on the security cameras at Stark Tower. He looked, for the hundredth time, at Stark's Captain America room, three times as big as Phil's and filled with a lot more rare and unique items. Steve then shifted slightly towards where Phil would normally be, and the agent couldn't feel jealous anymore. He changed cameras and smiled when he saw Stark in his lab, pouring over specs and parts of the armor with a glass in his hand, obliviously looking for the 'third weak point.'

“That should keep you away from my Captain for a while, you ass,” he hissed and turned off his phone. He then got back into bed behind Steve and closed his eyes, content in knowing _he_ was Captain America's number one fan and _he_ had the ultimate Captain America collection.  

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the jazz standard, "You Are My Lucky Star." My favorite version is by Carroll Gibbbons & The Savoy Orpheans


End file.
